Eva

CHAPTER 1

I will not describe this morning's wake-up call as anything gentle. It feels like the sun holds its personal grudge against me and decides to give my left cheek its own version of a sick laser pen attack. Its ray zeroes in on my face, making me squint and grunt a full second before my alarm blares. My hand starts its comical traverse around the general vicinity in search for the offensive target. I open my left eye a millimeter, and instantly know it is near impossible to get a bonus five minutes of sleep. The sun's glare is just too much.

I kick the blanket off my body, and stretch. That usually does the trick. However, in the first few seconds of this waking moment, my brain finds it appropriate to give my mind's eye a special film review of the previous night's disaster - starring me as the shivering leaf, and my great uncle as the God of all that is mighty.

The memory rushes through me and I give off an almost feral grunt. Uncle Gordon is this generation's head of the family. One would think that at age 89 years old, he would resemble a dried raisin. Our family's great uncle stands at 6 feet, 2 inches tall. His broad shoulders just refused any of time's attempts to slump him down, and his fists remain comparable to dust bin lids. His fully bearded face and expressionless eyes completed the package. When I was young, the elders taught me to respect him. For a while, I thought trembling and cowering in his presence are what constituted respect. Now at age 24, I have to say - I know better. I can now differentiate between deep respect and utmost fear.

Every month, each member of the family has to meet with the great Uncle at least once to file in our report; and every month since I was five years old, I have had absolutely nothing to offer. Nothing has changed - I still have not found my Protectee and every person in my household still looks at me in pity (or in shame, it is hard to tell). The meeting started in the same deafening silence as it always did. I never got used to this kind of air - it is suffocating. With an unusually high pitch that I employ only at his presence, I announced my usual one-liner, "I have not found mine." He stared at me for a full minute before uttering his own never-changing dialogue, "Why am I not surprised?" Having this exact exchange still give me the shivers after exactly 228 times is funny bordering on psychotic.

I went out of the meeting room with legs that felt like lead. Happy to be back to the insanely white hallway, I took a deep breath and focused instead on the carpeted flooring. The walls of old portraits felt like closing in on me. "Eva, I don't understand. Do you really not feel any urge to do something or go somewhere? If you feel that, don't hesitate and just go with your instinct. Believe me, okay?" Aunt Isabel's heavily patronizing tone pulled me out of my stupor. She clung onto my elbow and walked with me, all the while spouting nonsense as if her tips will suddenly turn on whatever switch is broken inside me. She has always pretended to be all prim and proper, her sentences usually peppered with humble brags here and there. She found her Protectee at a record-breaking age of two (she never forgets to remind everyone in the household). I focused my attention on her red high heels, and noted how she carries herself with such elegance and grace. Her white lace dress embroidered with delicate flowers at the hem was such a contradictory sight juxtaposed to my blue jeans and black hoodie. She did not even notice my lapse in concentration when we finally reached the mansion's exit. The marble staircase that led to the front garden and the parked black sedan were such comfort to me. Uncle Gordon's abode never felt like home to me, obviously. "-do not hesitate to give me a ring any time, okay? I am just here to help. I'll be in the company." By company, she meant the one owned by the country's biggest real estate mogul -- her Protectee.

My back still glued to my bed, my thoughts wander once more to my immediate present. Four months of unemployment is definitely not doing me any good. Two months ago, I got a call back from some manufacturing company. They showed interest in hiring me. To be honest, the job is lame and the title sounds very much like a repackaged "lowest of the low". No matter the "job description" and the "core responsibilities" they fed me with during my 30-minute long interview, I was hell-bent on giving it a go anyway. A girl needs to eat. Graduating several years later than my batch did not give me an edge in the labor market perspective. I kept changing majors and universities. Even one moment of feeling as if I did not belong to the degree made me quit cold turkey and search for the next thing. It felt like I had to. Because who knows? This might be the urge everyone was talking about. I breezed through life this way - always in search of my Protectee, I never even stopped to think of what I really want. I guess at one point I got tired and just settled on my business major.

I go through my totally roomy schedule for the day - have breakfast, give the company one more call to remind them I still exist, send some more resumes, read Casual Vacancy. I heaved a deep sigh, and forced myself out of my bed. I like quoting Stephen King in moments like this: SSDD, same shit, different day. On my way to the washroom, I let my reverie go somewhere taboo. Perhaps my inability to sense my Protectee is simply rooted to the fact that I actually do not want to meet him or her. The nagging fantasy of a normal life - one that revolves only on my wants and needs - commenced its creative attack on my day dreamy side.